


Into The Warmth

by prettyshiroic (kcgane)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, KEITH DESERVES ALL THE GOOD THINGS IN THE WORLD AND TEAM LOVE, Keith (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Team Bonding, can be read either way tbh, episode coda, kangst, keith and the team processing that he's galra, platonic or romantic, post S2E08, shiro and keith have important talks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 09:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11803101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcgane/pseuds/prettyshiroic
Summary: Keith just wanted warmth.





	Into The Warmth

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Out of the Cold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9469421) by [LittleWhiteTie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWhiteTie/pseuds/LittleWhiteTie). 



> This was written for the 2017 VLD Remix Challenge! I was SO happy to get to remix this story, it was a wonderful piece of work. You should definitely read it!! My remix takes place afterwards, following what happened. And I also thought it could be fun to link the remix in the title too, build on the imagery! I really hope you enjoy this 8)

Keith knew the cold, _felt_ it.

The cold had always taken a liking to him. Besides the knife, and the worn jacket on his back, it had been one of the only things that stuck around on earth. The cold that came with people. The biting words that were tossed his way by thoes who barely cast him a second glance. Unpleasant shivers that slithered up his spine and sat uncomfortably in the places where nothing else could reach, typically between his ribs. Puffs of air knocked from his lungs after being hit by a particularly strong gust of disapproval and _disgust._ Icy stares that burnt over his skin and chilled him right to the bone. _Deeper to the bone,_ deeper and deeper until everything and _everywhere_ was cold.

He could take no shelter from this all encompassing cold.

_That’s cold even for you._

A winter was nothing in the face of face of just how _cold_ people could truly be.

And each time they crossed paths, the cold should’ve destroyed the wavering near- _depleted_ belief Keith had in people to do the right thing - or even one nice thing. _Should’ve._ But for reasons beyond him, there was still an agonising flicker of something too close to hope that was never really stamped out. No matter how many times human kindness evaded him, no matter how many times the warmth that encompassed so many others slipped impassively past him, it lingered.

It was small, it was ebbing into oblivion. But it was there. Warmth, the _memory_ of it at least.

He craved that warmth, _longed_ to fall into it for real.

Warmth, not heat.

Because much like the cold, Keith also knew the blazing heat of a thousand suns. The intense _heat_ of the desert sun that left him parched, the kind that threw all sorts of mirages that couldn’t be and never _would be_ onto a horizon he no longer knew how to chase. Not back then, when the closest thing to _warmth_ was gone and lost to the stars. The sweat pooling on his shoulders as he heaved and _pushed_ harder by himself, trekked across sandy plains alone.

Then there was the intensity of the heat inside him. A fire. The one that never stopped burning and consumed his entirety. It was relentless, unyielding. Sometimes, it was _reckless._ Sometimes it grew too fast and he was caught in an inferno nothing could control. Choking on the smoke and skin singed from the sharp licks of flames he couldn’t put out. Sharp heat that poked and prodded around his head, leaving nowhere to hide and nowhere to run but further into his own fire.

Keith knew the heat, almost as well as he knew the cold.

But he didn’t want either of those things. No.

Keith just wanted warmth.

Understated warmth that lingered in the edges of smiles, nestled into the corners of crinkled eyes and laugh lines across faces. Like the warmth from the sun behind the clouds, peaking languidly through as a reminder. A constancy that was felt and appreciated, but not a presence needing acknowledgement. Not something Keith second guessed, or felt he could _only_ second guess.

Shiro truly _was_ a constancy - if the only one - he would never second guess. Patient, and continuing to stick by Keith’s side. Yet he was also so very high above Keith, forever drifting into things Keith could never hope to reach. He hoped he could _but he wasn’t sure._ Even if Shiro was sure, it wasn’t enough. Not when the cold gnawed at his fingertips, pushing him back onto an aimless path. Not when Keith was terrified that the warmth he chased would dwindle into darkness.

Still, he had glimpsed the warmth he desperately pretended he didn’t seek. He’d felt the whispers of it with Shiro many times, sunken into it. At first he’d moved further away as a precaution, stepped out of the light Shiro cast over everything and everyone. But the trickles of warmth still pushed through, coaxing him forwards. Shiro was the winter sun, a mesmerising orange in the sky and lacking real sharpness. But not lacking clarity, never lacking definition and _meaning._

And as time passed, as team Voltron came into being and they were _here_ in space, Keith thought maybe the warmth would stretch out to _other people._

Discovering he was part Galra, the reaction of his team to this news, proved everything Keith had never wanted to prove.

_“What?” Lance had been the first to speak, jaw dropping._

They were doubtful.

“ _You’re not evil. Wait. Are you? Are you?”_

They were unsure.

“ _How can you be so certain?”_

Yeah.

_With a steel expression, Allura looked over to him._

_“You…”_

It had felt cold.

Perhaps the coldest it had ever been.

**~**

“Keith. Hey, buddy.” Shiro probed, nudging him gently. “Come on, time to get up.”

Giving an absent hum, curling further into himself, Keith didn’t move. Whilst usually being able to drag himself from bed and get to work immediately, there was something pressing _pressing_ uncomfortably into him. This wasn’t any ordinary day. The tinges of warmth beside him vanished as Shiro moved away. With it came the cold realisation of three things.

Keith was awake.

They were back from the blade of Marmora headquarters.

And, he was still part Galra.

For the first time in a long time, Keith didn’t want to move. Despite the cryopod healing the worst of his injuries and getting him back into a relatively decent shape, he felt far from _okay_ or better. Worse, it was almost less that he didn’t want to move, and more that he _couldn’t_ physically find the will. And that was a scary thought. Because no matter what, Keith _always_ pushed. Always. He was born of determination and sheer driving force. Fire. Heat. But in this moment, the cold was all he felt.

“Keith?”

Instinctively, he followed the voice. Shiro’s voice because _do you know how important you are?_ Sitting up slowly, the ache in his shoulder raw and throbbing, Keith stared at Shiro’s back. He was at the foot of the bed, patiently waiting. And Keith understood it then, Shiro was trying to give him some space, _privacy._ Even now. Pulling off the covers, he leant forwards. There was hesitance in his hands that were trembling.

“You stayed.” Testing his voice was a mistake, it felt uncomfortable and sounded hollow.

Turning his head finally, Shiro met Keith’s gaze. What Keith found there never ceased to startle him. It was so earnest.

“Of course I stayed.” _For you,_ was implicit.

Leaning against Shiro, Keith clamped his eyes shut. The sigh that fell from his lips was miserable and, though he’d never admit it, a little fearful. Memories of the team’s reaction slipped back into focus. But it wasn’t a recollection Keith willingly wanted to entertain.

“Hey.”

Shiro moved closer, holding Keith by the shoulders firmly. He made note to avoid pressing into the spot where a scar now spread over Keith’s skin. How he remembered that, took time to be careful yet insistent, Keith didn't know. 

All he knew right now was that leaving this room today and acting like everything was fine would be the hardest thing he may ever have to do. Avoiding everyone was an option, but Keith wasn't inclined to back down. Even if the rejection hurt more than any wound he’d gotten in the trial.

“Does this make me evil?” Shiro asked softly, lifting the prosthetic and nudging Keith's focus from his own inner turmoil.

“What?” Drawing his eyebrows together, Keith glanced between the arm and Shiro’s calm expression. He couldn't have heard that right. No way.

“Does my arm make me evil?” Shiro repeated.

“No.” The reply was instant, swathed in fierce determination to make it clear that was _far from true_ and Keith would challenge anyone who disagreed.

“But it's Galra.”

Reaching for the prosthetic, Keith stubbornly pressed his palm against it.

“So? Just because it's Galra doesn't mean you're evil.”

“What does, then?” Shiro hummed absently, a smile slipping over his lips. Keith was too wired into disputing this to notice it was _whimsical_ , tinged with fondness.

Standing up passionately, Keith outstretched his hands.

“The only thing that determines what you are and what you stand for is your own actions and choices.”

Pause. Eyes widened with realisation. _Oh._

“See?” Shiro stood, heading to the door. “You said it yourself. Being Galra doesn't make you evil.”

“That's different.” Keith snapped, agitated he’d walked into admitting that so easily. Even if it was true, it didn't matter. The team didn't see it that way, _Allura_ didn't see it that way. Narrowing his eyes, Shiro’s expression hardened a little.

“What about Kolivan? And _Ulaz_ ?” He asked tensely. “Ulaz gave his _life_ to save Voltron. Isn't that the same?”

Bowing his head, Keith averted his gaze. Voice became low and near despairing. He wasn't trying to forsake the work of _good_  Galra they’d met. Bringing them into it was clearly upsetting Shiro.

“ _Shiro,_ please.”

Noting the shift in Keith’s voice, Shiro immediately yielded. Whatever he heard in the words had him momentarily spooked.

“I'm not that person, Keith.”

Looking up slowly, Keith watched the emotions flicker over Shiro’s face. Shame. Guilt. _Frustration._ None of it was directed at Keith and that was alarming. Because it meant maybe Shiro was feeling all this in _himself._

“The person you saw in the trial. The one who walked away.”

Stepping forwards, Keith felt something unsettling rise inside him. They’d been over this last night, before succumbing to sleep. Why was Shiro bringing it up again? Unless-

“-I know that.”

“Do you?” Shiro asked, for the first time breaking the facade that he was fine and this wasn't _just_ about Keith. “You only know that because I told you.”

It was true. Keith couldn't even _try_ to deny it. He’d evaded the truth in Shiro’s presence before. This wasn’t something he could hide away from. Pressing his eyes shut, Shiro sighed. He looked distressed. And Keith being the reason was not okay. For the _life_ of him, Keith couldn’t seem to find the words. Even with Shiro stood here, near _expectantly_ of all things. Not that Shiro would admit it. Keith _knew that,_ knew Shiro. Keith also knew that Shiro wouldn’t forgive himself for turning the tables back to himself if just for a second.

“I'm not going to abandon you, Keith. I’m on your side, always. And I'm not going to let you abandon yourself. Back at the base, you said something. And if you hadn't I- I don't think either of us would be standing here with an alliance.” Or _standing here at all,_ went unsaid.

Though it didn’t need saying. Keith already knew what he’d said. Shiro had been putting himself in harm’s way for _his sake,_ the chances of any kind of bond between Voltron and the blades falling apart. There had been no other conceivable way to get out of the situation. He’d given up the knife, offering it back. Only the blade had _awoken._ And now they were stuck in a whole new situation.

Keith, being part Galra.

_I know who I am._

He’d said it with such conviction at the base, such blazing certainty that he meant with every fibre of his being. But whilst _Keith_ knew who he was, _had_ been sure, there was a growing doubt that perhaps the others didn’t entirely see. The cold. It was only a matter of time until it swept over him again, frosting over the chance of this place ever being a home and these people ever being his friends.

“The blades are here,” Keith said, pulling away from things that crept too close for his liking. “We should probably be out there with the team making way on the plan to defeat Zarkon.”

Shiro hummed, not fully committing to the sound. It dissolved into silence messily as it squeezed past his lips. Perhaps Keith wasn’t the only one pulling away from things right now. Eyes trained on the door, Keith strode towards it. The atmosphere building here was too much to process. Too _raw,_ too open. Words reverberated off the walls, never leaving and never _sinking in_ because to digest them hurt.

As he stepped forwards, a warm hand clasped his arm.

“Do you remember what else we talked about last night?” Shiro’s voice was hushed, somehow patient and _chasing for an answer_ all at once.

A laugh escaped Keith, with _warmth_ of his own that reached up into his eyes. He did remember, though they didn't exactly _talk about it._ There was no forgetting the monumental words that slipped from his mouth. They hadn’t felt big or _overwhelming_ at the time, because it was true. And it had been important for Shiro to hear it, to at least _glimpse_ into a tiny, tiny fraction of what was nestled in his chest. Even if all the words in the universe couldn’t hope to begin to describe the gravity of everything Shiro meant.

“You don’t need to ask me that.”

It confirmed everything. With a shaky smile, Shiro nodded. Keith wanted to reach out carefully and ensure the smile didn’t break. But sometimes the best and most beautiful things were easily breakable. Shiro and Keith had endured time and time again. They’d endure this. The smile proved that.

“Keith, I-”

Words were abruptly cut off as movement came from the other side of Keith’s door. Exchanging glances, Keith and Shiro walked towards it. It sounded like more than one person. So it had to be the team. A cold gust mercilessly rammed into Keith, and he released a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. Slowly, the doors slid open to reveal the team. Just as expected.

All but Allura.

That was also as expected, given the information that had come to light. _Expecting it_ didn’t stop the chill seeping through his veins and down into his spine. But it didn’t settle, _wasn’t allowed to._ Shiro’s hand was there, on the base of his spine and rising up to his shoulders soothingly. It was as if he knew exactly where the cold was, precisely how to combat it. Leaning against the comforting touch, Keith steeled himself. _God_ he wasn’t ready for this, wasn't ready to hear what else the team had to say about him being Galra.

Finally, he cast them a proper considering look. None of them seemed remotely surprised that Shiro was already here and standing beside him. Gaze flitting between them with apprehension that churned uncomfortably in his stomach, Keith waited for someone to speak. To say _something._ They’d come here for a reason. And their expressions gave nothing away. It was unnerving.

“Hey, man.” Lance began, clearly designated as the spokesperson. Rubbing the back of his neck, the blue paladin groaned. Keith waited for the punchline. Because what else was there going to be from this? Any joke would be better than more of yesterday. 

“I just want you to know that this whole Galra thing changes nothing to me. I still can't stand that stupid mullet of yours.”

Before Keith even had _time_ to acknowledge the ghastly _affectionate_  hair ruffle he received, and the satisfied smirk slipping over Lance’s face, Hunk stepped forwards.

“You’re not evil, Keith.” He chipped in, hands stretched out animatedly. “Of course you’re not evil I mean, you’re _Keith_ ! Just- you’re just _Galra Keith_ now _._ But like Lance said you’re still the same. So you were always Galra Keith. Huh...” Pulling a face, Hunk paused. How many times did Hunk _want_ to say the word Galra.

“ _Galra Keith._ Man, that’s gonna take some getting used to.”

It was going to take _Keith_ some getting used to as well. Averting his eyes, he focused on the floor. Could things ever go back to how they were? Would the team treat him the same? And even if they did, _what about Allura?_ Keith felt the grip on his shoulder tighten, almost defensively. Shiro wanted to say something back to that. But he didn’t. A few moments passed in stilted silence, and then Keith understood why Shiro had let that happen.

“But we’ll get used to it.”

Pidge smiled, and she smiled _warmly._ Now Keith was thinking about it, _focusing_ on himself and not the team he realised: all of this felt warm.

It wasn’t a subtle kind of warmth that could be tucked away into pockets and preserved for later. It wasn’t the kind of warmth he _thought_ he’d wanted for so long: warmth that was understated, _present without having to be acknowledged._ No. This warmth overpowered everything and was _overflowing._ It was bursting vibrantly into being, spreading all around them without reserve. This warmth was bold and it was carving out a place in his chest to fill. It was dancing across his skin, making its mark and leaving tracks.

“Thanks, guys.” He breathed, for lack of better things to say.

“I’m proud of you.”

Ready to respond to Shiro’s offering, Keith found himself once again stunned into silence. Because Shiro wasn’t looking at Keith, and he wasn’t _addressing_ Keith either. He was looking at the team, as if he’d been _waiting_ to deliver these words to them the entire time. Lance, Hunk and Pidge brightened at the words. It shouldn’t have been possible, but their expressions grew softer -  _and they were looking at Keith._ Shiro too. Hitching a breath, Keith pursed his lips together tightly.

“What makes us who we are depends on the actions we take,” Shiro continued. “And the choices we make.”

Turning to Keith, he smiled gently. Keith was unprepared for what he saw in those eyes, what he _heard_ in the sincere words. For reasons he couldn’t begin trying to explain Shiro speaking _words that weren’t his own,_ and words that were Keith’s, was staggering. Always believing, always _trusting -_ always radiating warmth. It was almost overwhelming to accept. Keith had to look away, regather the splintering composure. 

“You coming Keith?” 

Eyes snapping up to Shiro, Keith noticed the team hovering behind him tentatively. They were waiting for him. Nodding weakly, Keith felt a tremble in his lips. Suddenly, he felt _a lot_ of things.  

As he stepped out of the cold, he felt the warmth.

And this had to be the warmth he had sought all along. Only bigger. Stronger. _Better._ And more. It was _so much more_ than he had ever believed could be possible.

“Sure am.”

Keith knew the cold, _felt_ it. But he also felt the warmth, was beginning to _know_ it.

It was real.

It wasn’t going away.   



End file.
